


Time Off

by 391780 (goblinparty)



Series: Cold Wind [19]
Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3187301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goblinparty/pseuds/391780
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrench flipped through the channels on the tv again for the third time in less than an hour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Off

Wrench flipped through the channels on the tv again for the third time in less than an hour. Fargo hadn't had work for any of the field guys to do, so he and Numbers had been stuck at home for nearly two weeks, and the cabin fever was starting to set in. Sure, they'd been able to fuck away the boredom at first, but there was a point where they realized the residual soreness of plowing each other for a week straight wasn't worth it. So while they recuperated they spent an obscene amount of time on the couch, either watching tv or reading. It was all fine and good for the first few days, but daytime tv is repetitive and Numbers had hit a slow part in his book, and they were both itching to do anything to pass the time. Wrench gingerly lifted Numbers' feet off his lap and stalked to the back bedroom, searching his duffel bag. He'd hoped that maybe, for once, he'd forgotten to unpack his leftover whiskey from the last job they'd done. Digging fingers felt the cold glass bottle and Wrench grinned, fishing it out from a wad of crumpled laundry. He sauntered back into the living room, shaking the bottle, vaguely remembering Hammer once telling him that shaken liquid made noise. Numbers looked over and grinned, snapping his book shut.

_I totally forgot we didn't have time to drink after our last shindig. Thank fuck, too, because I don't feel like driving out in that blustery bullshit just to get drunk._ Wrench pointed to the window, where thick white flakes seemed to be rushing past horizontally. Numbers went into the kitchen and emerged with a couple of glasses, setting them on the coffee table. Wrench filled them both and sat down on the couch next to his partner. He watched Numbers take a swig and his drink, and thought about how strange it had been at first to see him like this, hair mussed, wearing a navy blue hoodie and grey sweatpants, with reading glasses on top of his head. For the first few months of their partnership, if Wrench hadn't shared a motel room with him he would have sworn Numbers slept in an Italian suit. He always looked immaculate, like he was some sort of corporate bigshot. But now here he was, scruffy, unkempt and entirely dressed in cotton. Wrench put down his glass.

_Can I ask you a question?_ Numbers looked slightly apprehensive, but slowly nodded.  _Why the suits? You're the only one who does it. Everyone else just wears flannel and jeans and shit._ Numbers rolled his eyes.

_I thought you were gonna ask me a serious question._

_I am serious! I want to know!_ Wrench leaned back against the couch's armrest, glass in hand, looking expectant. Numbers chuckled to himself.

_It's the fucking tattoos, man. Gotta keep my 'identifying marks' covered up, just in case something goes sideways and I have to worry about witnesses. Plus it helps get information out of people._ Wrench raised his eyebrows quizzically, imploring Numbers to elaborate.  _It's like this, right? Rivers, Thorn, everybody else wearing flannel looks as intimidating as a local dairy farmer. Sure, they have a gun, but they look like they've been tromping around in cow shit all week. Meanwhile, I don't look like I'm local. You see a guy in a nice suit in the middle of nowhere North Dakota and you know something is up._ Numbers took a sip of his drink.  _Also I look fucking incredible in them._

_Not gonna fight you on that one._ Numbers smirked at that.

_My turn- you don't drink when we go to bars to find people. Why?_ Wrench snorted and poked at Numbers' collarbone.

_Boundaries. It's not just a code for **your** life, I have to compartmentalize all the time, too. When we're working, we're working. I can't get drunk or high or have any kind of fun distraction until I'm off the clock. I'm the job, I'm a machine. I gotta be completely focused or I'm gonna get killed, you know. _ Wrench shrugged and returned to his drink, leaving Numbers to sit and contemplate for a while. Wrench was a pro, that was for sure, but besides their initial meeting, he had no idea how Wrench had done his job without a hearing partner.

_Before Fargo, when you were working alone, you freelanced, right?_ Wrench's eyes narrowed slightly.

_Right..._

_How did that work, exactly?_ Wrench sighed and rolled his eyes.

_You mean how on earth did I ever manage without an interpreter?_ Numbers groaned. He'd fucked up. He knew it, and was just drunk enough to forgo his usual stubbornness and own up to it.

_Sorry. Sorry. Shitty question, of course you can take care of yourself._ Wrench's face softened into an expression of pleasant surprise. He honestly had been ready to argue, he hadn't expected Numbers to give in so quickly and apologize sincerely. He sipped his whiskey and waved to get Numbers' attention again.

_I'll tell you, though, it wasn't easy. I had to pretend to be my own go-between. Like Wrench was this sort of mythical, never seen, top of the line hired gun and then I'm his Deaf errand boy setting up jobs for him so he can maintain his anonymity or whatever. People pay extra for the scary faceless killer schtick. I think it's because they watch too many movies._ Wrench shrugged.  _So I'd go to diners and make them fill out this form I had made up giving out the details of the job, and then I'd just...go do it. I had to do it that way, if people knew they were hiring a Deaf guy they'd freak out, demand their money back. Like all of a sudden they don't think I can handle it._ Numbers cocked his head.

_Fargo hired you, though._

_Yeah, but I had to really prove myself first. Outsmarting you helped, that's for sure._ Numbers huffed at the teasing, but pressed on.

_How did you do interrogations, though? Or did you?_ Wrench furrowed his brow.

_Hey, it's my turn now!_

_Oh, come on, man. You have to admit, being a Deaf hitman requires more inventiveness than being a hearing one. I want to hear how clever you are._ Numbers slid his hands under his thighs, trying to stop babbling. He could really feel the alcohol now, and it was making him a little sappier than he was comfortable with. Wrench seemed pleased, though, so at least there was that.

_Well, I only did a few of them, so I didn't have the experience to really iron out the kinks in my method yet._

_Just tell me, man. I'm really curious._ Numbers twisted in his seat on the couch, digging his cold toes under Wrench's thigh while looking at him expectantly.

_It's not that elaborate, I mean, I'd tie 'em up, turn on an audio recorder, get out a pad of paper and a pen and write down my questions, then make them read it out loud and answer it. Then I'd just watch their body language to see if they were lying and sort of blindly walk through the interrogation from there. Then I'd just turn the tape in. I told people that Wrench had been attacked by a dog as a kid and had scars all over his face and neck, that the dog tore out some of his throat and that's why he didn't want to be seen and didn't speak. I really sold it, too, I'd act like I'd be in huge trouble if Wrench knew I told them. I'd burn the paper with the conversation on it right in front of them and act all nervous. And still people actually bought that shit! Can you believe it? I pretty much stole that backstory from a character in that 101 Dalmatians remake!_ Numbers snorted out a laugh.

_The one with G-l-e-n-n-c-l-o-s-e?_ Wrench grinned wide and nodded.

_Yeah!_

_Oh man, I remember that character! Jesus Christ I can't believe you got away with that!_

_Of course I did, nobody wants to call a dude my size a liar._ Wrench tossed back the rest of his drink and poured another one.  _My turn. Your friend, Letters, what're they like?_ Numbers' eyebrows shot up in surprise.

_What?Why do you want to know that?_

_They're coming back, right? To Fargo? I figure you'll be hanging out with them since you already know them, which means I'll be hanging out with them too, right?_ He cocked his head.  _Unless you think that's a bad idea?_ Numbers shook his head thoughtfully.

_No, no. Of course you'll hang out with us. We're all coworkers, in a sense. It won't be weird._

_So what're they like?_ Numbers shrugged.

_I dunno? Total firearms nerd, I guess. Can tell you the make, model, year, and caliber of any gun just by looking at it. Totally nuts, fairly pretty, crass as hell, very smart, and probably the closest I'll ever get to meeting a real live n-y-m-p-h-o-m-a-n-i-a-c._ Numbers watched as Wrench's body tensed. Clearly he hadn't expected Letters to be a woman.

_So did you two hook up?_ Numbers snorted and rolled his eyes.

_It was forever ago, man! And there weren't feelings involved, it was just, you know, convenient. She's cool but it didn't mean shit, ok? She thinks I'm a stuffy old man and I think she's batshit crazy. Honestly, don't get jealous over it._ Wrench took a deep breath and nodded. He trusted Numbers, so if he said there was nothing to worry about, he'd take him at his word.

_Do you think she'll expect to pick it up where you left off?_ Numbers smirked.

_Nah. Besides, Jergen asked me to try and steer her his direction. I figure it's the least I can do for the guy._ He chuckled to himself.  _Poor man she's gonna eat him alive._

They chuckled for a bit before Wrench waved to get Numbers' attention again.  _Where were you before Fargo?_

_You already asked one!_

_You got two in a row! It's my turn!_ Wrench folded his arms stubbornly.

_Fine! I was in LA, though I was still sort of working for Fargo. I worked at the port trying to get stuff past customs and onto trucks headed to Minot. Did pretty well for a few years, but we got raided and pretty well shut down. Fortunately all they could get to stick on me was a concealed weapons charge, so I was out in no time. Pretty soon I'm on the phone with Jergen, and he's telling me there's stuff opening up in the midwest that can use my talents. Apparently word had gotten round about the few times I noticed discrepancies in manifests and had to... extract some information from people. So I put everything I wanted to keep in a carry-on, flew into Hector airport, and been working here ever since. Pretty straightforward, honestly._ He shrugged.  _OK, my turn again. It was almost a full year between when you taped me to that fucking tree and when you came to Fargo._ Wrench chuckled.

_That isn't a question._

_What were you doing in that time in-between?_

_Planning. Fargo doesn't take outsiders, not unless they've proven themselves. I did some jobs for third parties who worked for Fargo, got my ticket in through them, did a few discreet jobs for Jergen and Carlyle to prove myself, and then damn near a year later, I'm on as a regular._

_That's it?_ Numbers leaned back against the arm rest, obviously impressed with Wrench's dedication.

_That's it. Soon as I left you under that tree I figured I needed to either go legit or commit myself to a syndicate, no more of that freelancing shit. I won't lie, wanting to see you again factored into my decision making a little bit._ Wrench smiled to himself absentmindedly, and seemed to Numbers to be slightly lost in thought, as if replaying old memories in his mind. Soon Wrench's attention snapped back to Numbers.  _What's your favorite part of the job?_

_The paycheck._ Wrench rolled his eyes.

_Come on, I'm serious._ Numbers sighed, his hands hovering in the air until he found the right words.

_I like walking into a room and seeing people react when I tell them who we are. Their backs straighten, they get nervous, and within seconds I am in complete control of the room. They'll do whatever I say with no questions asked. I know that if I let them live, they'll be looking over their shoulder for me for the rest of their lives. I'm the reason people double check their locks at night. I am truly powerful. It's a rush. I feel like God or something. Plus I get paid to hang out with you so that's pretty nice._ He shrugged.

_You're getting lovey dovey on me, old man._ Wrench grinned, unable to hide his pleasure in Numbers' uncharacteristically overt affection.

_Blame the liquor._

_I will. But I know what you mean. After a while you start to feel like the boogeyman or whatever. People are scared of you but they're not sure why. Bad vibes just come off of you in waves and everyone knows to give you space and walk softly around you. It's a trip, for sure._ Numbers leaned across the couch and patted Wrench's thigh.

_You're the only one who really understands me, man._ Numbers leaned forward, pulling himself to his hands and knees, crawling across the couch to lay his head on Wrench's lap.

_Christ, you're a bigger lightweight than I thought._ Wrench signed, but Numbers didn't see it, as he was already resting with his face nestled against Wrench's thigh, eyes closed. Wrench stroked his partner's thick, dark hair and watched his breathing become slower and deeper. He sat, watching his partner sleep contentedly until he felt his jeans pocket vibrate. Wrench carefully shifted himself so as to grab his cellphone without waking Numbers, and flipped open the screen to read a message from Jergen. Wrench gently tapped Numbers' shoulder.

_Aussie says we have work, we need to be in the office tomorrow morning._

_Thank fuck. Finally something to do._ Numbers grinned sleepily before returning his head to Wrench's lap. Wrench smiled to himself at the sight of his partner sprawled out on the couch, sleeping peacefully with his head in Wrench's lap. He looked out the window at the heavy snowfall, and mulled over a million things at once in his mind. The dead kid from a few weeks ago, Letters coming back into Numbers' life, everything Wrench had to do to make it to this point, all of it left him feeling slightly uneasy until he felt Numbers sigh into his leg. Whatever would come would come, he supposed, and that no amount of worrying would stop it. He felt the vibrations of Numbers' soft snoring and bit back a laugh, enjoying the image of the typically hyper-vigilant and put-together older man in a state of completely blissful lack of self-awareness. Knowing that someone like Numbers, who was all about keeping circles of friends small to nonexistent in the name of safety, could be comfortable enough to share with him, drink with him, and fall asleep on him made Wrench feel a warm sense of pride in his chest. Something about having a person who hated everything and everyone be in love with him made Wrench feel invincible, special, and perpetually flattered. He fiddled with his cell phone before tapping out a reply to Jergen.

_About time. See you tomorrow._

 

 


End file.
